


Branded (Revised)

by BrookeSutter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Shifters, Soulmates, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrookeSutter/pseuds/BrookeSutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her entire life changed when she met Bellamy Blake. </p><p>And Clarke doesn't like change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Branded

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Branded a while ago, but I've just now decided to revisit it. Unfortunately, I couldn't overlook the flaws and plot gaps I had created by updating too quickly. I've decided to continue writing this story, but I'm going to fix each chapter accordingly, first. Thank you for your continued support! I hope to have these chapters updated and published soon.

The familiar burning sensation tugs at her muscles, licks at every bone inside of her until she's sure she'd combust in her royal blue 2015 Mustang Convertible if she didn't handle the situation soon. It's been far too long since she felt the bottled up, straight-jacket sensation. Still, she knew it was her fault. Her time management skills were always lacking and she hadn't been able to find time to "relax" or even begin to humor the illusion of comfort. She hadn't been in Virginia for a week and she was already back to hating her day-to-day life. Her mother was lucky she even returned from her country-wide trip, though, Clarke imagined Abby Griffin knew her daughter would return for one last year. In truth, Clarke was just grateful that she had an excuse to be out of the house; no more lessons, no more training, no more disapproving looks from Abby. She needed the peace of a temporary escape.

But did it have to be high school?

 _Yes_ , because Clarke would rather serve consecutive prison sentences than be in the boarding house for the rest of her life.

Despite having a double-digit amount of bedroom suites in the 1940s luxury boarding house, she constantly felt suffocated in her home. When she was fourteen, she learned a valuable lesson about family—it doesn’t matter how large the house, they will find a way to get under your skin and ruin the best of things. If she were being accurate with her terminology, she wouldn’t use the word family. Family implied a direct blood relation or a marriage relation. These people were just part of our household. Some still strangers in her mind.

The correct word was pack.

It was the word her mother often used when delivering a speech concerning safety, medical information, supplies, and the overall living arrangements to their people. It was the word elders tossed around in conversation with one another. It was the word the drunks muttered into their drinks as a toast after one of the many dinners her mother hosted. The word derived from their original ancestors that shifted into wolves. It was odd, shifting—changing skin into something so different from the bodies they displayed to the world up until the first full moon following their seventeenth birthday.

But, it was part of her life and she desperately needed to shift before she lost her tethered grip on reality. She should have shifted last night but something pack-related came up that needed her immediate attention. Over the last forty years, the elders in the council seemed to be working on a way to sniff out potential shifters and were starting to peak on success. There’d been a few cases where a newbie was apprehended and walked through the process of what was going on to them, but for the most part—they usually slipped through the cracks.

Clarke was one of the few lucky shifters who’d grown up in the life rather than her parent’s keeping her condition a secret until she turned seventeen. It was mostly because her mother was the Chancellor, sworn leader, of the pack which required her to live in headquarters with the elders, those who chose not to lead a normal-ish life, the protectors, the doctors, and the others who had helpful jobs in the community. It was a safety precaution to keep the entire “you’re not human” thing on the down low because kids talk and if they’re changing, they’ll be less inclined to spill the dirty little secret. It would be far too easy to scout out the pack and watch their children. But no, the mutation in their DNA had to randomly pop up in the areas they occupied which made the job nearly impossible. It made her job of coaxing the newcomers into a comfort zone difficult.

It was the council’s idea to send the youth in for these missions—search and retrieve—because they were relatable to the teens shifting for the first time. Clarke disagreed, mostly because she hated trekking through the woods for hours at a time in search for a scared imbecile who always assumes they’re losing their mind. Last night, Clarke and her closest friend, Nathan Miller, encountered the worst type of newbie; the emotional stoner with a serious case of best friend separation anxiety—A.K.A. the weepy type. Jasper Jordan was known for his pot garden and his moonshine making best friend. Clarke had gone to school with him since kindergarten and knew him fairly well. Some could say that they were friends—that is, if she were allowed to have “human” friends…not that Jasper was human anymore. He was one of the rare cases where he was born into a human family, but his genes were mutated so he resembled the pack instead. It took him longer than usual to shift back and then he was embarrassed that he was naked. Really embarrassed.

Nathan usually took the guys and explained the pros of being what they often called a “freak”, but Jasper was different. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with Miller. He only wanted to hear Clarke tell him about what was going on, the side-effects, the strengths, the weaknesses, the changes, and the entirety of being a shifter—at least, she told him the Cliff’s Notes version of the speech the council would tell him later. It lasted a lot longer than it normally did so eventually, they had to call in Raven and Wick.

Raven Reyes was a mechanic and Kyle Wick was an engineer. They were seemingly normal apart from the whole shifting thing except for the tattoos—marks, really. Humans assumed it was a unique tattoo across their wrist, but the shifter community called it a brand.

_The brand._

Raven and Kyle met when Raven started the community college—the second their eyes met, they knew. Before Raven met Kyle, she said the whole soulmate eye connection thing was a cliché, but it happened with them instantly. “It was like this intense feeling—like every bone in my body was threatening to push through my skin until we were connected. I just knew he was my mate…the person I was born to be with.” Soulmates were common in the pack—everyone had a mate that they found within their lifetime. They locked eyes and the personalized mark burned black into their skin and they were bonded for eternity.

It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t believe in soulmates (because there was too much proof to deny it), she just didn’t want one. She’d spent her entire life being loyal to the pack—living with the pack, never experiencing true normality. If she found her mate now or before she graduated college, she would be screwed. She would never be able to leave the pack and venture out on her own for a few years because it would be official—she’d be a complete shifter with all the qualifications of adulthood. It would be her job to do her chosen profession, medicine, and serve her people until her last dying breath while reproducing enough offspring for the next generation. Clarke never questioned whether or not she was part of the pack—she only question whether she wanted to be. And maybe she didn’t want to be part of it.

Maybe she wanted to be the version of humanity that didn’t have to worry about a mate being able to read her mind or communicate telepathically. Maybe she wanted to date human boys and worry about if they were going to send flowers or propose or something completely romantic like the movies. Most of the time, people with mates just assumed they were bonded for life and didn’t need any other indication besides the traditional marriage ceremony conducted by the council. Her opinion was biased, though—she didn’t know a damn thing about love or what it was like to have a soulmate…or the intensity of feeling someone else’s emotions, someone else’s physical pain or pleasure even from miles away. She just knew she didn’t want a damn thing to do with being a shifter after graduation—at least for a while.

A black, nearly identical, Mustang pulled up beside her with a long screech. Nathan was just as late to class as she was--typical. He held a cup of coffee out to her and she smiled, taking it before throwing her aviators over her dark eyes, bruised by her lack of shifting and her exhaustion. It was a deep and obvious contrast with her electric blue eyes. When her friend opened his mouth, she thought he was going to say something about them, but instead, he pointed his thumb towards her car. “Remind me again why you park between two parking places…” It was his way of saying that he missed her. She hadn't felt bad about leaving yet. She had a great time in different states even if she hit rock bottom more than once. Her mother wasn't exactly handing her money to blow off her responsibilities.

“Because I don’t want anyone to park next to me.” Clarke huffed, but there was a trace of a smile on her lips, “Just because I don’t trust the driving of the rest of the student body, doesn’t mean I’m a bitch for parking that way.” Miller had a bad habit of commenting on her driving. In her opinion, she was phenomenal. In his, she was downright scary behind the wheel and only got her driver’s license because she manipulated the instructor with her persuasion projection. Only advanced shifters could transfer their wants onto others, making them forget their reservation and their original judgments. Clarke was considered quite advanced for her age.

“Yes, it does. Now, where the fuck is our homeroom?”

She snorted, “The History department. Room 302, Mr. Bellamy Blake. The name sounds familiar, think he’s a shifter?”

“God, I hope not. The last thing I need is some old ass elder telling me about World War II.” Miller said under his breath—he was another person who had a few objections with the council as well as the mate expectations, but that was for his own personal reasons that they never discussed. “If we take the right hallway, we could be there in two minutes and still hear the corny introduction to homeroom and how we should all try to attend every class because our GPA is important...”

“Or we could take the left and completely skip it,” She suggested with a sarcastic smile. "and give ourselves a moment to think."

“Then we’d have to explain why we weren’t there during sixth period when we have him for AP Ancient History.” Their schedules were nearly identical apart from an advanced painting class and some macho weight training class she wasn’t going to be part of with the rest of the pack youth. In fact, most of the pack youth had the same schedule because they liked to stick together in case of an emergency. They kept each other in check for the most part. The youth consisted of Murphy, Wells, Miller and Clarke (seniors) and Fox, Harper, Monroe, and Jasper (juniors). Fox hadn’t changed yet, but her mother was a highly ranked protector so she’d been brought up in the life just like Clarke, fully aware of what her elder pack-mates were up to most nights.

Murphy and Clarke rarely got along, but they tolerated each other due to a sense of survival. Wells and Clarke were good friends, their parents being on the council and everything kind of required them to get along. Either way, she had a group she was comfortable enough with throughout the day as well as a group that she could monitor in case of any indiscretion. Murphy had a habit of freaking out because he was pissed off and skipping school so he could run the anger off in the woods. Wells had a habit of causing him to freak out all the time. “Fine, we go to homeroom and meet the old guy but we walk in like complete badasses.” Clarke was kind of disappointed he didn't take the bait.

“Yeah—“ Miller made a weird noise in his throat that was between a cough and a laugh, “—because walking in with shades on definitely makes you a badass.” Clarke winked rather than throwing a punch, “You know it.” It took them two minutes to reach the door just as Miller said. Clarke looked down at her skin tight black jeans and black hiking boots and frowned. She wasn’t dressed for the first day of school. Normally, she took a more pastel approach to things. But today, her hair was wind-blown, wavy like she planned on trying the new summer look. At least, she had enough sense to put on some makeup, even if it was nude eyeshadow and some mascara. She mostly regretted the tight, almost crop-top length red shirt and the leather female biker jacket because it made her look like she’d gotten into some pretty heavy shit over break, but she couldn't change it now.

Instead of fretting, she walked into class behind Miller while pulling up her shades because she didn't need the rumor factory to start this early in the morning. People would think she was hungover by second period and everyone would ask her about it because they're nosy and annoying. Miller addressed the teacher, mumbling something about engine trouble while Clarke gave Wells and Murphy short head nods, indicating they were successful. Of course, her name was on the lips of the girls in the class who didn’t know that their whispering could be heard by her as a clear as day, she was used to it, though. She practically expected it.

Clarke shrugged it off, sitting in her desk. She shook off a wave of nausea, almost like she ate too much candy and decided to go on a roller coaster. Maybe her body was closer to combusting than she thought, maybe she was about to turn in front of everyone in the small classroom. She'd never been this bad off.

Her breathing became slightly uneven and she didn't know if it was because she was about to reveal her wolf form or because her nerves were shot to hell. Her heart was racing, pounding against her ribcage. “Clarke Griffin, I suppose…” A gravelly voice pulled her out of her thoughts, her eyes shooting up from the engraved desk towards the voice saying her name. Her first thought before her eyes focused was god, I hope he doesn’t think I’m hungover… but then she met his eyes and she felt like something completely shattered within her.

Instantly, she wanted to close her eyes—take it back. Never look at him again but she found herself gripping the cold metal pole of the desk with all her strength as he staggered back, sitting on top of his desk while he stared at her. The students would just assume he was clumsy because shifters move quicker than the human eyes can process, but she knew he was being affected by her presence. It pissed her off that she felt just as weak as he looked. The burn in her wrist was bearable, but only because she was squeezing metal between her fingers as she fought a hiss. She was giving herself a headache trying to fight off whatever connection they were eventually going to make because she didn't want this--god, she didn't want him. The entire class was buzzing about break and movies and the stupid shit they did with her summer and she was meeting her soulmate in the most surreal way. Her pupils were just as blown as his and she was starting to feel the bits of arousal Raven explained to her once upon a time, _“We just wanted to jump each other’s bones all the time! Still do, actually. I wonder if that ever goes away…I hope not. We have great sex.”_

Go away, she begged as her teeth connected with her lips until she could taste blood. She regained the ability to close her eyes, her body buzzing with anticipation until she had to suppress a feral growl. I can’t do this…I can’t do this… It wasn’t until Miller put a firm hand on her shoulder, whispering as low as he possibly could. The type of low that humans couldn’t begin to hear. “Breathe, Clarke. Just breathe…like they always tell us…you need to breathe and control yourself.” She tried to slow her breathing, tried to avoid the stranger who still hadn’t stopped looking at her like he just found the Holy Grail.

It wasn’t until Murphy mumbled something along the lines of, “Way to imprint with the fucking history teacher, Griffin. We know who’s getting an A this year” from beside her that she finally snapped out of the most intense moment of her life. Blood was rushing in her ears and she could barely hear anything around her except in that way in which things felt like a dream. She met his stunned eyes again, but she was cold. She didn’t need this to happen to her.

She wanted him, craved him—but she didn’t want a soulmate and the flicker in her dark cerulean orbs told him everything about her. Including the fact that she was very close to doing something stupid. For a moment, she saw hurt in his eyes but it quickly vanished. The bell rang and she stood, eyes falling to the recently cleaned tile. She snatched her coffee from the desk, chugged it and tossed it into the trash before Wells grabbed her hand and Murphy practically pushed her out into the hallway, probably scared she would do something as wild as he usually did when he got frustrated—she had that look in her eyes, the reckless one.

She glared down at her reddening wrist, at the black mark etched into her skin, like a fresh tattoo, that resembled an abstract infinity sign coupled with a series of dots and a thick line between the entire brand. No one knows the meaning of the designs, but she knows, somehow, it’s special even if she doesn’t want it to be…and she hates that, too.

“So, that just happened.” Miller cleared his throat as he sidled up to her as they headed towards their first-period class. “Damn…what did it feel like?”

“Like I need to take a cold shower,” Clarke grumbled lowly, her eyes narrowing at the thought. “This would only happen to me, you know? God, this is exactly what my mother wanted to happen this year so I wouldn’t go off to college.” The anger flooded every sense she had, but the anger was only a strong resentment for the entire mating concept. “He just stood there…just stood there looking at me and…it was like I wasn’t even myself anymore. Like I had no control over anything and that has got to be the worst realization for someone like me who has had a plan since freshman year to get the hell out of here.”

Murphy snorted, “And we all know you love your control and your plan to abandon us.”

“I’m not—“

“Can we not have this argument now?” Wells asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and finally releasing her hand in the process. “Clarke just connected with her soulmate. Our history teacher, Mr. Bellamy Blake that we’ve never met. He must be new to town. Now, the council says we must introduce every newcomer to the entire pack upon first meeting and assist them with the transition to our pack. It’s our obligation to bring him to the dinner welcoming back everyone from their summer vacations and greeting our newbie shifters.”

Clarke nearly choked, “That dinner is tonight. No way, Wells. No fucking way—if you’re my friend, you won’t do this tonight. I need time to think, to clear my head! This is so.... right now…I don’t even know what just happened. Plus, the council always knows there's someone new in town. Especially a male. Be logical, that's probably why his name sounded so familiar.” But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. The council had no idea there was someone new in town...

Not this time at least.

“I think you’re in shock,” Miller commented with a soft look in his eyes. He was using his calming voice with her. She recognized it because he had just used it with Jasper last night. “ Just breathe, Clarke. You haven’t shifted in a week or more and whatever just happened…it might be too much for you to handle. You need to remain calm and steady. Wells, if you invite Blake to the goddamn dinner—it’s me versus you in the ring tonight, understand?”

“Yes.” Wells sighed as if it were going to ruin his life to break protocol once.

“Good.”

Clarke pressed her head to Miller’s shoulder for comfort because he'd always been her rock.

“Why do I feel like my entire life just ripped apart at the seams?"

_Because it has._

  
  



	2. AP History

**12:04**

Her heart started to pick up a rapid pace as she checked the time on her phone for the hundredth time. Unfortunately, her favorite class would be over in less than a minute and she would have to face him. Clarke begrudgingly exited out of Spotify and began the slow process of putting away her pencil set and sketch pad. It was her third year in an advanced art class and she'd become familiar with the aspects of a typical session under the instruction of Ms. Jones. Most students sketched during free days, such as this one, because Hannah Jones did not believe in busy work and decided not to read the syllabus to a "bunch of adults" as she so kindly put it. Clarke longed for an ounce of Ms. Jones' carefree attitude, a goal she saw becoming more of an impossibility after being branded.

Clarke could relax within the walls of the art room usually but now, it was the class before she had to sit in a room with him for fifty minutes of hell. Those dark eyes kept appearing in her mind on repeat, especially in her more mundane classes. In a way, she can smell him even if she wasn't in the room with him that long in the first place. She hated it. Clarke frustratedly yanked her headphones out of her ears before ripping the hair tie from her golden mane and shaking it out until she reached semi-perfection. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts but once she checked her reflection in the self-portrait mirror, she felt calmer.

Normally, she wouldn't care about leaving the class with black smudges on her cheeks but this was different somehow. She didn't want to show him what kind of mess she was, but she also didn't want to show him anything about herself that was significant to her. She noticed the bell was late but only after it rang, only after her insides began to vibrate with an unnatural anticipation. She was disgusted with herself for even caring. She couldn't fight off centuries of sexual desire, or the brand, but she could sure as hell fight off liking him in any way. She was not going to fall in love with him. In this case, lust and love could be two different things.

Still, if Miller knew that she was shaking as she darted through the hallway in search of the small classroom, he'd die with laughter and her anti-soulmate campaign would be completely destroyed. She knew it was going to be hard to fight him off. It was obvious that he was strong, even if they had only experienced each other for a matter of minutes.

The second she walked into the classroom, his entire body went stiff as if she electrocuted him. He cleared his throat and looked around the empty classroom to make sure no one else had snuck up on him while he was deep in thought. She wondered what had him so zoned out. "I think we need to talk..." He said slowly and although she agreed, it was pretty dumb of him to point out their issue as if she wasn't aware--as if she wasn't already feeling the effects of changing into a genuine, fully grown shifter. It was a complete emotional overload. She hadn't been this confused in a long time.

"And if I don't want to?" Clarke didn't know where the sassiness came from, but she knew it was unwarranted. His brown eyes scanned her tentatively as if he was sizing her up. She imagined if she wasn't so pissed off about bonding with someone, she would be self-conscious about the penetrating gleam in his eyes. Clarke sauntered over to the desk she sat in that morning and flopped into it unceremoniously, completely ignoring the seating chart posted on the white board even if she could clearly read it. It was clear he spent time sketching out each individual desk though his writing was awful. In his version, she wasn't near Miller, Wells or Murphy and that just wasn't going to work for her. It clearly needed her revision.

His eyes darkened at her disrespectful actions and she inwardly mused, _'What are you going to do? Spank me.'_ Clarke almost blushed, but she'd be lying if she denied the sudden jolt in her bones that he caused with those goddamn dark eyes. Habitually, her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she glanced down at the worn desk. She knew the entire situation, when considering the human perspective, was cliché as well as inappropriate. She could not develop the hots for her teacher.

"There's a seating chart." He cleared his throat, pointing to the white board. His tone was thick, filled with gravel but also a small annoyance. He seemed to be torn with his newfound role. It couldn't be easy for him to bond with one of his students on the first day of school. In a way, he was striving for normalcy just like her. At least, it seemed that way but maybe she was trying to create a connection that wasn't there.

Clarke lifted her chin with far too much pride, "I suggest you change it then because I am not moving." In a way, she was testing him to see how much control she would have in the situation. His fist tightened when she countered him; Clarke couldn't tell if it was from annoyance or arousal. After a small moment, he pushed away from his desk and walked over to the board, taking the new eraser in his hand to quickly remove his chart. For a second, she thought she was going to have the upper hand in the nonexistent relationship but he opened his mouth, "Don't think that you're going to get special treatment just because of our situation. It will be something we discuss later."

"Sure." Clarke whistled, crossing her arms across her chest. She didn't like someone challenging her. It's why she made such an effective leader among the youth. In the process, she pushed up her boobs until they were almost popping out of her shirt. It wasn't intentional, but once she realized that she had done it, she didn't feel guilty for getting his attention. Part of her encouraged it.

His mouth fell open slightly before he shook his head, vanishing any appropriate thoughts. "I doubt that outfit is school appropriate." Clarke didn't like the tone of his voice. It was full of authority. Clarke didn't like authority.

"What are you going to do? Send me to the principal's office?" She scrunched up her face, but the look disappeared when he cocked an eyebrow. He strolled over to his desk and forcefully pulled open his desk drawer. It would be more intimidating if she couldn't tell he was slightly aroused. He pulled out a stack of write-up slips that still had the thin plastic cover on them. Bellamy looked up at her, his ego shining brightly. He took a pen out of a handmade mug-- _did he have a kid?_ \--and licked the tip of it for dramatic effect. "Are you serious?" She half-laughed because he was being extremely childish.

"Yes," He hummed before the sound of ripping paper tore through the tension in the classroom. "And don't try to skip, Miss Griffin, I will be checking to see if you actually went."

Clarke glared at him for a second before he waved the slip indignantly. She stomped way too fast for a "human" to snatch the slip out of his hand. Their fingers touched and she almost lost all of her control. If the five-minute warning bell hadn't of sounded, she would have kissed his dark lips but reality stopped her. He seemed to feel the same way because he sighed heavily before standing up from the desk. Their chests were almost pressed together. "I think you have somewhere to be."

He said under his breath, "I would go if I were you."

She felt unreasonably hurt by his actions. Clarke made a growling sound in the back of her throat before she said, "Fucking jackass." and stormed out of the room.

Clarke passed Miller and Murphy on her way out of the door. Miller was holding a cup of coffee with her name written across it. "Where are you going?" He asked at the same time as Murphy's taunt, "Skipping on the first day are we?" met her ears.

She waved the pink slip in front of their faces. "He wrote me up for a dress code violation." Murphy instantly looked down at her chest and smirked. In return, she smacked him upside the head. "Out of all the fucking shifters in the goddamn world, I end up with the egotistical jackass with a control problem."

"Hmmm," Murphy touched his chin, "Who else do we know with a control problem?"

Clarke hit him again before taking a sip of her coffee, "Get me a copy of the syllabus so I don't fail his class. I'll see you back at the boarding house. I'm going to tell my mom about this and get it out of the way."

"Good luck." Miller offered her before she moved past them and exited the school.

It wasn't until she was at her car that she realized Murphy and Miller skipped class and didn't invite her.


	3. Dinner

Clarke walked into the boarding house, instantly smelling the multiple air fresheners people plugged into the wall to keep the smell of wet dog neutralized. She didn't start noticing it until she came back home after break. Even if it was awful, she still associated it with home somehow. There were little things she loved about the boarding house: being close to her friends, always having interesting people around, the ability to be herself.

She just didn't like being under the thumb of the council or her mother for that matter.  

Abby Griffin was a business first, nurture later type of person but Clarke was used to her system by now. There wasn't a doubt in her mind concerning her mother's _love,_ but she often questioned who her mother loved _more;_ the pack or her? Most days, Clarke's accepted that it was a tie between the two. Other days, she was sure the pack had her beat by a million points and she would always get the short end of the stick when it came down to it.

It was different when her father was alive--or, around. Clarke's mom liked to pretend he was dead even if they never found a body and never had enough proof to officially call it _murder,_ or what her Uncle Marcus Kane labeled _an assassination._ They weren't the only pack out there and sometimes people are irrational, at least, that was the explanation she'd been getting for the last eight years.

Truth was, Clarke preferred the story where he walked out on his mate and his child in search of a better life where guidelines and duties weren't the only concern. Part of her could support that story, could believe it was true that he was living in some suburban neighborhood with another child and a human wife who didn't order around nearly one hundred people who turned into wolves when they felt like it.

She liked to think she could do the same thing--at least, she thought that before she mated with someone. As much as she loved her dad, she couldn't understand how he could walk away from the bond if it was as strong as Raven described it.

"You're home early," Abby said once she walked out of the dining room area. "What happened?

Did the Jordan kid cause a problem or something?"

"We kept him out of school today. You would know that if you actually read my reports." Clarke sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I think Miller and I can effectively train him in a short period of time. Jasper is a good kid."

Abby lifted her chin, "Then, why are you here?"

Clarke opened her mouth, but she couldn't make the words come out. Clarke didn't know how to tell Abby that her mother had gotten everything she ever wanted. Instead, she lifted the sleeve of her jacket and flashed the irritated mark to Abby.

 "You mated with a classmate, today?" Abby grabbed her arm, her thumb touching the mark accidentally. Clarke released a small hiss, but it was unnoticed. "Did you mate with the Jordan boy? A newcomer? Where is this boy?"

She looked down at her feet, "I wouldn't exactly call him a boy, mom. If you wanted to meet him, you probably should have gone to that school function they do before the first week of school." Her mother hated her sarcasm and witty comments.

"What are you saying?" Abby raised an eyebrow, "Are you...did you imprint on a teacher,

Clarke?" Her mother yelled the last question as if it were her fault that she bonded with Bellamy.

Clarke raised her hands in defense and stepped away from her mom, "Wow, mom! It's not like I could help it!" She was about done with the conversation in the first place.

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit Clarke picked up from her. "I know, I know...this just complicates things. The wedding ceremony and all that...we're going to have to hold off an entire year and even then...it's just, you know what? Don't worry about it, we'll sort it out." Abby put her hand on her hip after a second, "I need to do a medical eval as soon as possible to check on your shifter status. If there are any changes in appetite or homicidal feelings, tell me immediately. You should expect some cramping, a heightened sex drive, sore teeth and a more frequent need to shift."

Clarke put on her business face and nodded. It wasn't about their mother-daughter relationship anymore. Just business as usual. One leader to another. "So...do I get a name so I can add him to the database?" Abby prompted, "Did you invite him to the dinner?"

"No, I didn't." Clarke shrugged as if it wasn't important and as if it wasn't considered an insult.  "I, uh, his name is Bellamy Blake. I don't know anything about him except for the fact that he's my teacher and makes me feel some of those homicidal feelings you were just talking about." Her mother's smile dropped to a disapproving frown, "What? It's true. He wrote me up for a dress code violation, mom!"

"He's going to be your husband, Clarke." Her mother said with a finality that made her shiver. "He's your mate. You are his and he is yours and the sooner you accept this, the better your life will be. I want you to put those foolish fantasies of NYU or CSU or whatever college you wanted to go to out of your head and realize your only commitment is to this man, this lucky man that has you for eternity, and this pack. You are so gifted, so talented, you could lead one day but not with your head in the clouds. If he wants you to put on more clothes, you need to do it."

Clarke opened her mouth, whispering with the hint of tears in her voice. "I can't believe you're taking his side on this."

"Life is about sacrifice, Clarke." Her mother stood straighter more official than before. "Contact him and urge him to come to this dinner or I will transfer you out of that art class and put you in the anatomy class I told you to take." _Right in the gut._

1:45 PM

Miller stormed into her room with a furrow in his brow, "Your boyfriend is an asshole." He handed her a folded up syllabus before collapsing on her lavender duvet. "The entire class, he made Murphy read. He's damn near illiterate, Clarke." His recount of the class made her smile slightly even if her life was going to complete hell. "Given, Murphy deserved it because he was making those goddamn sexual comments about you again." Murphy usually picks on Clarke with crude remarks about their fake sex life. She's convinced half the school thinks she's slept with him, Miller and probably even Wells. The only person that hasn't gotten any of her loving, according to the gossip, is Finn Collins and that's because it's obvious she hates him. Before she was a shifter, she kind of had a crush on him but that all ended when he cheated on his long-term girlfriend with a girl at their school.

Crush over.

She couldn't stand a man that cheated.

"He isn't my boyfriend." Clarke finally told him with a frown as she opened the syllabus and flipped through the pages for his e-mail or number. He was young enough to think students needed direct contact with him, but he was also a dick, so he could've just left his e-mail.

Miller cleared his throat, "He kind of is, Clarke...once the bond fully takes over and forms...his feelings will be your feelings and so on."

"He's not even my type, okay? He's cocky and arrogant and thinks he's in charge. God, I can't stand him."

Clarke turned the page so hard it almost ripped, but she quickly pushed down her temper and flipped to the last page. Fortunately, his number was displayed in bold type. She grabbed her phone off the end of the bed and looked at Miller. "Mom is making me invite him tonight."

"Ah..." Miller rolled his eyes, "Well, I guess it'll be fine unless he makes Murphy say the annual toast."

"That's mean," She says under her breath as she inputs his number into her phone and types out a message.

_Dinner @ One Hundred Phoenix Drive. Be there. 6:45 PM._

_\- Clarke_

She doesn't feel like being polite to him.

 He wrote her up the first day of class.

 He's a dick.

Clarke hits the send button and tosses her phone back at the end of her bed. "I honestly think this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I mean, dad leaving really sucked, but this is my entire life." She looks down at her legs, "They're going to make me pick a position soon. Mom's only concerned about the health changes of my body and sticking with tradition...and I'm here thinking everything has changed. I'm never going to be able to get out of here now."

"You wanted to leave us that bad?"

"No, I wanted to leave the council that bad. They're taking away our free will--"

"Shh," Miller covered her mouth, "Have you forgotten that these walls are paper thin?"

"Shit." She honestly hopes no one heard her because speaking against the council is close to treason in their eyes. It's one of the reasons she has to go through with this marriage, with this so-called promotion into a position that would line her up to be in the council--because people who go against their wishes tend to disappear (mostly because they run away, but Clarke is sure they've killed a few strays.)

A few minutes pass before there is a knock against her door. It's too erratic to be an elder so she allows herself to breathe. "Come in," Miller calls as if it is his room. She makes a noise and he looks at her, "What?"

Clarke can hardly reply before someone is tackling her against the bed. "I just heard that you were branded today!" Raven Reyes, a person who usually shows no excitement towards anything unless a wrench or power tools are involved, squeals. "I can't wait to meet this guy. Is he cute?

What does he look like? Did you two bang?"

Miller answers for her, "He's alright looking--" Clarke knows he's lying because Bellamy Blake, ass or not, is fucking sexy. "but his personality is awful. Total dick. He wrote Clarke up for a dress code violation today."

Raven snorts, "You two are totally going to have explosive sex."

"Doubtful. We clearly don't like each other." Her phone pings and her heart nearly stops when she sees his number. Then, her blood starts flowing because he replied with a simple ' _K'_ Clarke flashes her phone to her friends and they both tsk with disapproval. "He's such an asshole. Why me?"

"Because someone needs to handle you." Raven winks at her, "Dominate and all that. Trust me, Wick--"

"Stop." Clarke begs, "I beg of you, don't finish that sentence."

Raven wickedly laughs, "Are you going to sleep with him tonight?"

Her face turns all screwy, "Are you insane? No!" Raven just shrugs, "But I guess I should change and do something with my face. I look like I got hit with a car. It's something caffeine can't even fix this time."

"Oh, shut up. You're gorgeous...but it wouldn't kill for you to pull a brush through your hair. Maybe a little mascara." Raven twists the corner of her mouth, "I could call Harper or Monroe later and get them to do some of those Pinterest things."

"I don't know." Clarke shrugs, "Should I really try? I mean, I can't stand him, but my lady bits say

I want him...do I want to tempt fate tonight?"

"That's your choice to make. Warning, though, sex with your mate is intense. Not that you would know what sex feels like it the first place...but still, it's really intense."

She thinks on it for a moment before she says, "I just want to get through tonight."

"Okay, well I would get in the shower if I was you. Let some hot water relax you then start getting ready. Dinner's at seven like always." Clarke nods her head and doesn't even comment on the fact that she has nearly five hours to kill.

A hot shower sounded like the perfect solution.

6: 30 PM

Clarke stands in front of her mirror wearing nothing but an electric blue matching bra and panty set. Her hair dried in waves because she fell asleep with it in a messy bun. Luckily, years of rushing to get ready in the morning have taught her how to manage the beast perfectly. She knows she's running late but after her shower, she desperately needed a nap. Plus, she planned on wearing a simple dress anyway so it wasn't that hard for her to get ready in the first place. She didn't call Harper and Monroe in this time, mostly because she didn't want to look like she was trying too hard to get his affection. She wanted to look like she wasn't trying at all.

It takes her no time to fix her hair but she procrastinates putting on her dress merely because she is lost in her own thoughts. She wants to know what her mother is going to say, how she's going to act. She wants to know everything that's going to happen because she's always in control. She always knows what is going to happen.

But not in this case.

The sound of a car hitting the gravel driveway causes her head to clear up. Instantly, she can feel his thick presence. It's almost like he's invading her space, but he's not even close to her. She tunes in on his breathing, how it's slightly quicker than a normal pace, and how is heartbeat sounds muffled by whatever shirt he's wearing. He stops at her front door and knocks with less confidence than he had before. It only takes half a second for someone to answer it.

Of course, it had to be her mother.

'You must be the newcomer.' Abby starts in, her tone of voice completely different from reality.

"I'm Abigail Griffin, Clarke's mom and Chancellor of the Pack."

She hears him clear his throat, something he must do often, "Bellamy Blake, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Well, would you like me to take you to Clarke?"

'Shit.'

Clarke hurriedly throws on her dress and shoes while she tries to eavesdrop on their conversation. She almost falls more than once despite it being logistically impossible for her to be this clumsy. It takes him two frantic heartbeats to respond, "I can wait for her." Clarke blushes because it just dawned on her that he might be listening to her too.

Every stumble.

Every intake of breath.

He's probably heard it all.

Her body has been in a remotely relaxed state despite today's events. She hasn't wanted to lash out irrationally nor has she felt the biting pain of wanting to transition since that morning. But with him being so close to her, so aware of her, she feels like crawling out of her skin and hiding behind the white, blue-eyed exterior of a wolf for the rest of her life.

Somehow, it a matter of minutes, he's managed to wind her up.

"No, I insist," Abby says in her fake-nice voice. "She's only in her bedroom. It'll give you two a chance to talk about today's events." Fuck.

Clarke listens as they climb the stairs, trying to control her breathing and everything else that could indicate that he does affect her slightly. More than slightly if the trembling in her legs means anything. It's hard for her to deny their sexual attraction, even if she would like to pretend it doesn't exist. It's only a centimeter under her skin at the moment. Any wrong touch could set her off.

 Abby half knocks on her door before swinging it open. "I'm going to leave you two alone to talk about things, okay?" Clarke wants to laugh because she really isn't looking for any affirmation.

Abby is gone soon enough, though, closing the door behind her.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her before he starts surveying her room. "Is your mother always so pushy?"

"Yes." Clarke supplies him.

He shrugs, "Hmmm..."

Clarke balances her weight on the opposite foot before she runs a hand through her hair. He's making her nervous with his stare. It's dark but not in an aroused way. He seems to be contemplating something in his head, something important to him. "I'm not looking for special treatment, I just thought you would understand that I can't be without my pack." Sh breaks the awkward silence.

"Is that an apology?" He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. She watches as his unruly curls move with him. It's sexy, sue her.

"No." Clarke manages to roll her eyes, "It's just me telling you that I'm not looking for you to curve my grade, or help my friends pass. I want this to go as normal as it can. I don't want any overlap when it comes to what we have to do versus school."

"And what is it we have to do?"

Clarke sighs, "My mother wants us to get married in a year. It's pack tradition." She expects him to be shocked, for his eyes to widen, for him to refuse...but he doesn't.

"Okay." His nonchalant attitude is driving her crazy. She honestly thinks she might stab him if he doesn't show any real interest in what she has to say soon. Her mind goes back to her mother's mention of homicidal feelings, but she doesn't think it's part of her transformation.

"I guess that's all we have to discuss." Clarke shifts uncomfortably because that's not all she wants to talk about. She wants to ask him why he chose to wear such a tight, white dress shirt over to her house. She can practically make out every vein in his arms. Even worse, every ripple of his abs.

If she does break and ends up fucking him, she wouldn't be that guilty about it.

He's attractive and she isn't that bad either.

Bellamy shrugs again. Clarke hates the way he rolls his shoulder like that, how it seems so natural for him to do almost like a habit. She hates that he has a habit of shrugging when he doesn't want to talk about something or when he just doesn't care. She hates that he just doesn't care.  "I guess so." He reaches out and touches a figurine she picked up in California. It's a mermaid made of glass. "My--" he pauses, shakes his head. "I'm going to introduce myself. I'll see you later." "Okay."

She feels like her heart is going to beat right out of her shirt by the time he leaves. Clarke wants to jump his bones, try him out, figure out what the hype about sex actually is...but she can control herself.

What she couldn't control was the beast threatening to rip her porcelain skin to pieces. It was the animal inside of her, the animal he seemed to be bringing out all by himself. Of course, it didn't help that she needed to turn in the first place but in light of today's events, it was becoming urgent.

Clarke thought about skipping dinner and just running it off in the woods. Maybe if she changed, he wouldn't seem so alluring to her.

She's kind of worried because she hasn't experienced any dramatic changes to her body yet. The night isn't over, though, so there's no telling what could happen. Clarke doesn't know what it'll mean for their bond after she finishes changing.

A knock on her door causes her head to turn, "Come in..."

Unsurprisingly, it's Miller. He's wearing a pair of khaki pants and a light blue button-up shirt, but he didn't tuck in the shirt because he always said he looked like a nerd. "That wasn't much of a conversation," He comments under his breath like usual. "I expected a little kiss or something, you

know?"

Clarke glares at him, "It's not like that."

"It will be."

"Doubtful."

"It's 6:55, ready to go down?" He asks with a soft smile. Miller has been her escort to everything since she was four years old. The only year he wasn't was when he had the chicken pox and Wells had to step up and do the job.

Clarke checks herself in the mirror one last time, "Yeah, let's go." Miller holds out an arm to her and she doesn't hesitate to take it. It's the type of normalcy that she needs. They walk down the stairs with their arms interlocked and smiles on their faces.

Miller's dad is standing by the door in a pair of dark washed jeans and a black button shirt. It's typical for protectors to wear dark clothes, especially when the entire pack was supposed to come tonight. At least, most of the pack.

It put them in the perfect position for fight night tomorrow, but no one liked to mention it because they were scared Clarke was going to kick their ass.

"You two look good."  Miller's dad nods and Clarke shoots a wink in his direction.

It doesn't take them long to get in the dining room with the rest of the guests. Bellamy is there, chatting with an elder about something sport related. Clarke's surprised because he doesn't seem like the small talk type of person. 

They make eye contact and she drops her head. Not because she's ashamed, just because she doesn't know what to say to him. There's nothing in the world that could make her ashamed of walking into a room with Miller.

Not even his situation.

"Why am I getting the evil look right now?" Miller asks as he leads her to their usual seats near the rest of the youth pack.

Clarke shrugs, "I don't have a clue. He acts like he's jealous but we both know it's not that." She looks over her shoulder at the man glaring at her best friend. Bellamy's lips are in a straight line, but somehow they are still kissable, still desirable in every single way even if he's trying to evaluate her.

"Excuse me," He tells the elder he's talking to before he walks towards her. She turns her head away from him and takes her seat. Usually, Miller sits next to her but this time, he chooses to sit across from her. It leaves an open seat next to her. "Is this seat taken?" He asks when he's at the table.

"No." Clarke kicks Miller in the leg when he sits down in front of her. Bellamy doesn't seem to notice. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and Clarke thinks she might faint when she sees his forearms. He's got her a teenage, hormonal mess.

Bellamy makes himself comfortable next to her. "What's the occasion?"

"Welcoming everyone back from their summer trips." Clarke looks down at the place setting. "It's just how we start our year." "But it's August."

She rolls her eyes, "And?"

"Just an observation."

"Hmm." Clarke nods her head, "Has anyone ever told you, you're a jackass?"

"I think you did earlier..." His lips curve into a smile. "You didn't go to the Principal's office, did you?" Clarke smirks and shakes her head. "I might have acted irrationally."

She speaks before she can think about what she is saying.  "I think you were just trying to assert your dominance." Bellamy's smile vanishes but she can tell that he hasn't lost his flirtatious gleam.

His eyes are darker, this time because of arousal.

"What would you know about dominance?" He asks after a moment, casually taking a sip of his water.

"I know I'm not used to someone standing up against me."

"Ah," Bellamy leans closer to her. "We'll continue this conversation later, okay?" Clarke blushes at the thought of any type of later where they discuss what they were hinting at but when she meets Miller's eyes from across the table, she realizes that she is falling into a trap.

She straightens her body.

Bellamy observes her defenses going up with furrowed brows, confused with what just happened. They were finally getting along even if it was only for a minute or two. Still, she knows she only gained his attention because she walked in with Miller.

He wanted to act like he didn't want her, like he didn't care, but wanted people--her friend-- to know she was his? No way. Because she wasn't his. They hadn't even talked about it.

Mostly because of his attitude.

Murphy entered the dining room with the rest of their group, including Jasper Jordan. Clarke turned her body around to make eye contact with the kid. She offered him a warm smile as a comforting gesture. Bellamy cleared his throat from beside her. "So, you and Murphy?"

Clarke was shocked with his question. "What?" He tilts his head in the direction of Murphy and their friends, "No, that's my pack...and Murphy is just an asshole who likes to get under people's skin."

"I thought this entire group was your pack." He motions around the room. "Does Miss Griffin have favorites?"

"The youth are my business."

Before she can explain, her mother starts in on the toast.

Clarke finds a way to avoid the conversation for the rest of the night. She doesn't want to talk about dominance, she doesn't want to talk about her business in the pack, she doesn't want to talk to him...because for some reason, even if it's partly hostile, she likes talking to him.

There's something about his voice that's intoxicating.

And she hates to say it, but there's something about him, too...something that doesn't just exist because of their bond.


	4. Plans

The night sky fell down around her as she looked down at her phone to check the time. It was only 7: _43_ PM, but she didn't want to pretend to be diplomatic anymore. She spent an entire summer making her own rules, barely communicating with the pack at all--especially like this. Her mother checked in once a week, _maybe_ and Miller gave her updates on the proceedings of the council twice a month unless an emergency occurred, but Clarke and Miller had a very different definition of emergency. He thought the council locking him out of chambers was an emergency his first week as temporary leader, but it was actually a common thing for the elders to do. Attendance was optional in the first place for her position. 

She spent an entire summer finding a new version of herself but as she stood in the same place she used to walk before she felt the exact same. The turmoil inside of her was overwhelmingly complicated. She wanted to be free, but she moderately wanted Bellamy, too. Clarke could shake it off, pretend she had never tasted freedom, but that was nearly impossible at this point. She’d smelt the Carolina seas and she’d felt the grass of the western plains tickling her waist. She’d experienced the natural rhythm a lone wolf feels when they are wandering the earth for a purpose.

Clarke wasn’t done wandering, she knew that. 

Her frustrations with Bellamy, with the formal pack-life and her mother, seemed to hit her all at once when she was trapped inside of the dining room. There was no amount of water chugging or fresh salads that could chase away her distaste with life. She needed to taste the forest air, even if it was only a few feet away from her open backyard.  

It’s been almost three months since she stood facing the oak tree surrounded by pines. It's been even longer since she had to grasp for control of a transformation. She found her breathing was uneven, and her small fingers balled up into fists at the thought of shifting. 

She took in a deep breath before she peeled the dress straps from her shoulder, sliding the thin garment over her hips and letting it fall onto the wood floor. She kicked out of it, proceeding to take off her bra and panty set only slightly more delicately than before. 

Clarke inhaled.

Exhaled.

She repeated the process until she was near cardiac arrest. Her heartbeat sounded like a war drum, beating frantically--but this was normal when it came to changing. It was part of the process. 

Clarke closed her eyes tightly as the heat started to consume her. It was a side effect of an accelerated heartbeat. The rough burning and the tearing of her human form made her scream, but she didn’t feel the distaste anymore, just the familiar pain of morphing into her truest form.

She's come to find that nothing compares to shifting.  The process is completely pure no matter what form a person takes, at least, that's what she's read. She studied a group of people that took the shapes of tigers when she went through her mandatory training. It was written that they feel the exact same way despite being different animals. The feeling has always amazed her. 

It took her a while to realize she was not screaming and the pain had significantly died down. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting lower on the ground. Her heartbeat hadn't died down, but she felt better. 

But her emotions returned, worse than before. 

Clarke tipped back her head and released a howl so heartbrokenly beautiful that it would bring tears to her own mother’s eyes if she bothered to listen to her daughter.

If she bothered to feel her pain; the loss of her father, the loss of her freedom, the loss of things she never even held or had.

_I don’t want this…_

_But I can't stop it, either._

**6:40 AM**

Clarke woke on the forest floor, her body shivering as she came down from the high of turning back into her human floor.  The early morning chill was a stark contrast against the heat of the transformation. Distantly, she hears something. She assumes it is what brought her back from her deep, exhausted sleep. She soon realized it was her alarm going off nearly a mile away from where she laid. She lifted herself from the ground, ignoring the way dirt dusted her skin and how a few wet leaves stuck to her belly and knotted hair. 

“I’m going to be late,” She told herself before she started to sprint through the forest. Her clothes were where she left them in front of the oak along with her nearly dead cell phone. She picked it up as she slid into her dress. She had a few missed calls from Raven and one missed call from Bellamy--shocker. Her sudden departure from dinner came back to her in that moment, but she couldn’t muster up an ounce of care for leaving. She needed a break. 

She turned off her alarm and headed back to the house.

With much grace, Clarke stumbled into the boarding house through the kitchen's back door, snatching a few biscuits the chefs had made for the elders from the counter. After stuffing her face in the foyer, made it up the stairs, luckily not waking anyone up that would talk to her.

She was tempted to fall into her bed and sleep for a few more hours, but she had to go to school. Miller and Clarke agreed to introduce Jasper back into society this morning.  It was necessary due to the fact that he used to live a perfectly normal human lifestyle before his transformation. If he had been raised into the pack like Miller, Clarke and the rest of the group, it would be typical for him to skip a few days here and there but Jasper hardly had a blemish on his attendance record. He was one of the few rare souls who preferred school over other things.

It was wholly annoying for her.

It wasn't long before she made it into the bathroom and started to undress again. Clarke turned on the shower and waited for the steam to overcome the bathroom. In the process, She studied her reflection as it faded in the mirror. At times, she could say that she's was beautiful. This was one of those moments. Though, she only found herself beautiful because she was a complete mess. After a few passing minutes, she turned and stepped through the opening of the glass door. Immediately, she felt the heat of the tiles against her feet. 

Her wolf form normally protects the bottoms of her feet, but she's starting to notice a little wear this time. She assumes it is because she spent most of the night running out her thoughts, fears, and emotions. She must have been making her way back to the house when she passed out. 

She’s glad there wasn’t much damage.

As she stood underneath the water, arms tucked to her chest, her blonde hair started to turn brown and stick to the back of her neck. For the most part, the warm water was helping her relax but it also reminded her of the heat she experiences when she changes. 

Clarke reached for the imported vanilla soap, squeezing it into her hand before she worked up a decent lather on her skin. She enjoyed the scent of vanilla, but she tried not to drench herself in anything that would irritate another wolf's nose. Murphy, for one, hated the scent of vanilla in the morning. 

It took her a total of fifteen minutes to clean herself fully and by that time, her second alarm for the morning was going off. She hurriedly turned off the shower and reached for one of the plush towels maid service left on the rack. She tried to dry most of her soaking wet body before stepping out of the shower, but her long hair made it impossible not to get a few droplets on the tile. 

In truth, she felt comfortable once she was out of the shower as if she had been reborn. It took all she had not to fall onto her bed and sleep the school year away. After an internal battle, she decided to get dressed for the school day.  It didn't take long for her to decide what she was going to wear mostly because the outfit she was supposed to wear yesterday was still hanging on the back of her closet.  

The hardest part was trying to figure out if she was going to wear cotton underwear for comfort, or a thong. 

The black thong in the back of her underwear drawer won the every-morning debate. 

Clarke quickly put on a pair of tight jeans and a long, flowy white top that screamed "school appropriate." After she was satisfied with her outfit, she flipped her hair over and battled it to stay in a well-crafted messy bun. Her outfit was soon completed with a pair of brown sandals and gold studded earrings. 

It took her nearly twenty minutes to put on a full face of makeup before she was prepared to go to school. 

Unfortunately, she wasn’t prepared to see  _him._

**7:50 AM**

Her speakers dimly pushed out Today's Top 40 as they sat waiting in the parking lot. Truthfully, she didn't know what she was waiting for--it was more of a procrastination, but her passengers were waiting on her. Clarke was zoned out, not having any legitimate thoughts. The only thing that pulled her out of the process was someone sipping loudly on his frappuccino.  “Jasper, seriously?” Miller nearly yelled in frustration from the seat beside her. “Again with the goddamn straw,” He mumbled lower than before. 

“Sorry, habit.” Jasper seemed to have a lot of nervous habits, at least, that's what Clarke has observed in her time with him. The only reason he was so wound up was because of Murphy's multiple jokes. It was kind of ironic because Murphy caused most of the incidences at school. Fortunately, he decided to ride with Harper, Monroe, and Fox this morning. Unfortunately, that meant rule-abiding Wells rode with her due to the fact the two boys couldn't inhabit the same enclosed space.

It was a written rule in her playbook when it comes to Youth Leadership. 

After his irritation faded, Miller finally turned to Clarke with sleep in his eyes.  “You ready for this?”

"Are you?" She shot back, pointing to his eyes. He quickly wiped it away. "What am I supposed to be ready for?"

“I don’t know, Asshole seemed to be in a pretty bad mood last night when he found out you left...” Clarke tried to pretend it did not bother her. Even with her best efforts, Miller wasn't fooled. 

That didn't stop her from continuing the charade.  “I don’t give a damn what kind of a mood he was in when he left last night. Bellamy is still a professional.”

“So, how does that work? You're engaged to our history teacher and all…sounds like some PLL stuff.” Clarke couldn’t believe Jasper just referenced Pretty Little Liars when concerning the soulmate bond. She also couldn’t believe his mistaken use of engaged. Bellamy and Clarke weren’t even dating, they barely _talked…_ the only thing they had as of now was the desire to fuck the hell out of each other, and maybe that only pertained to Clarke because he certainly wasn’t giving any hints on how he felt.

She knew things would change one day, but she's as ready for that as she was for him to come into her life. Completely unprepared. “We have to go to class now.”  

“But Mom….” Jasper lets out the most childish whine she's ever heard. It's so ridiculous she almost laughs out loud, but she doesn't want to encourage him. 

Clarke rolls her eyes and snatches up her coffee from the cup holder. “Come on, let’s go.” It's her authority tone, the one she rarely uses because she sounds like her mother. 

“Thank you!” Wells exasperates as if it was killing him to be in the car. Sometimes, she doesn't know what goes on in his head or if she can truly trust him or not. Part of her thinks that if something insane went down, he would snitch on her in a heartbeat. 

They step out of the car looking completely different than the day before. She looks more approachable so more people offer her smiles. Including Monty Green, Jasper's friend.  “Isn’t that your best friend?” She asks Jasper, wondering why he wasn't making eye contact with him. 

“Uh, yeah.” Jasper says with a frown plastered on his face.  “I mean…I know the rules and everything.” Her heart drops a little in her chest when she realizes what he saying. It's the most heartbreaking part of her job. 

“Just as long as you follow them and don’t tell our secret, I don’t see any reason—“

“Clarke.” Wells warns her with wide eyes as if she's committing a mortal sin, “You know we aren’t allowed to be friends with humans once we turn.”

“—you can’t continue to be his friend.” Clarke shoots a warning glare towards Wells. She's daring him to challenge her, and even worse, report her. “I think if you want to lecture me on rules, Jaha, you should get in the ring with me.”

Clarke is referencing Fight Night, an event hosted annually by the pack. Each leader in a low-ranking position, if opposed, must defend their title. Last year, she beat an older member of the pack named Dax out of his position as Youth Leader. Murphy still calls it an UnderDog tale but she just refers to it as a miracle. Dax was a cruel and incompetent leader. 

Wells shook his head, silently refusing. 

They step through the entryway of the school two-by-two. She can tell Wells is fuming, but she could care less. Even if she doesn't trust him, she really hasn't done anything wrong. Her mother has pardoned multiple people in the past due to deep personal relationships. 

Her pack members walked in the door before her, which is unusual for the way they work. But, she needed to hang back to collect herself before she saw him.  Clarke sucked in a deep breath before she followed behind Jasper. Her people, including Murphy who managed to make it to class before them all, made it to their seats as she lingered behind. 

He was standing at the white board, scrawling a few Icebreakers on the board with a thick blue marker. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms in the way that made her drool. It was safe to say she was starting to get obsessed with his thick arms. His hair is slightly more groomed than it was yesterday, but it was still a mess. He’s wearing a dark pair of jeans with a faded mark on the back pocket—probably from putting something there repeatedly like a wallet. She almost doesn't notice that he's watching her check him out. 

He turns around, facing his laptop. it's the only thing that brings her out of it. She doesn't even bother to blush, instead, she moves to her desk. “Where’s the rest of your…pack?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, “I thought you all had to stick together all the time.”

“Separate cars,” Clarke answers slightly monotonously, “Harper, Fox, and Monroe are juniors anyway,” She says it as if she’s reading one of her tired reports she has to turn into her mother. “Any more questions concerning my people or…?”

Bellamy snorts loudly, “You have an attitude problem.”

“I know,” She replies, her lips curving. 

His pupils were wider than they were yesterday by the time she relaxed in her desk. He made direct eye contact with her, causing her heart to flutter.  She watched him smile to himself.  It was almost as if she could feel him, but she wasn’t sure. Clarke wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. He was too damn….

Too damn…

The warning bell rang and interrupted any moment they were previously having as well as any intelligible thought.

Clarke looked down at her desk, confused.

**12:10**

Clarke walked into class a little later than the day before but the room was still empty. Today, she could observe the classroom and its lack of decoration. He didn’t even have the cheesy posters every teacher seemed to find hilarious, which was shocking. The only thing he had that was fully _him_ was the handmade mug that he kept his pens in. She realized she was just standing in the doorway watching him, so she made a move towards her self-designated desk.

“You always skip the social scene outside?” He asks after a moment, shutting his laptop and leaning back in the desk. He puts his hands behind his head. “I thought you would be living it up with your boys right now.”

Clarke nearly laughed at the thought of them being around to hang up, “I probably would if they didn’t skip their weight-lifting class to bring me coffee. They won’t be here until 12: 18 at least.”

“Does your pack plan everything down to the minute, or is that just you?” It's as if he can't get comfortable, or as if he can't find his angle. Clarke watches him stand and move to the front of his desk. 

“I think it's training, to be honest. I've had extensive medical training, but I've also been trained by a few great Protectors. ” Clarke feels relaxed as she tells him about her life. It's strange how she's comfortable when it's technical. “We really do need to talk…okay?”

“I know.” He responds, crossing his arms and unintentionally flexing them. “Preferably before the bond kicks in, correct?” Clarke senses that he's gone through some of his own training, but she can't tell if it was pack training, or if it was military. She wonders if his past is jaded--it would have to be if he was trained by a pack. 

“Yeah.” She nods, suddenly not comfortable with the thought of sharing some intimate details about each other. “We only have a couple days so the sooner the better.” Clarke swallows hard. 

“Tonight work for you?” He asks, his hand diving into his pocket to retrieve his phone. She watches how he scrolls through his phone. "I don't have any meetings."

“Uh, yes, tonight is good."

“The boarding house?”

“No, uh, definitely not. The walls are paper thin. Everyone eavesdrops.” She looks at the door, checking to see if any students were coming in. There weren't. 

“Okay, well, I could pick you up around five tonight. I’ll take you out of town so no one sees us together...that okay?" He checks the door just like her as he says it. 

“Alright.” Clarke nods, "Sounds great."


End file.
